The Wellness Protocol

Maya stared at her reflection in the elevator doors—dark circles under her eyes, skin the color of old paper. She was running on fumes, a corporate zombie moving through the workday on nothing but caffeine and resentment. Three months undercover at Vitality Corp, and she still didn't have what Covet Industries was paying her for.

The vitamin empire of Marcus Thorne had seemed like easy money when her handler first pitched it. Get close to Thorne's daughter, find the formula for their next breakthrough supplement, get out. But Sophie Thorne wasn't the spoiled heiress Maya had expected. She was sharp, funny, and devastatingly honest about her father's operation.

"It's all placebo, you know," Sophie had whispered last night, her breath warm against Maya's neck in the aftermath of their third time together. "Dad's a sphinx, guarding secrets that don't exist. The magic isn't in the vitamins—it's in the marketing."

Maya had frozen, Sophie's fingers still tracing the constellation of moles along her shoulder. A sphinx. The code word her handler had used for this entire operation.

Now, as the elevator dinged at the executive floor, Maya understood with crystalline clarity: Sophie wasn't the target. She was the test. Covet wasn't after a formula—they were after loyalty. They were testing whether Maya would sleep with the mark and still deliver the goods, or whether she'd go rogue when feelings got involved.

The vitamin supplements on Thorne's desk caught the morning sun. St. John's Wort, ashwagandha, compounds promising focus and energy. Nothing Maya couldn't buy at any drugstore for twenty dollars.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Sophie: *I know who you work for. My father wants to meet.*

Maya deleted the message, then deleted the backup. For the first time in three years of corporate espionage, she made a choice they hadn't authorized in the employee handbook. Some sphinxes, she decided, deserved to keep their riddles.